Many other personal issues, like a tedious marriage tried to hold Mom captive but
to no avail. Nothing could stop her from attending and taking us to church. She taught
Sunday school and then we all stayed for church where she sang in the choir. Even
in the face of great personal pressures, she persevered and taught us about God’s
love.

Later in life, I too, I taught Sunday school and sang in the choir. This was the
legacy mom passed on to me. In my selfish emotional hunger, I had forgotten the love
she lived before us. In my pride and childlike anger, I wanted to strike out because
there was still something more I needed from her but could not bring myself to ask
for it. There was something that only she could give but the hurting, little girl
in me could not find a way to let her know my need. I was torn.

The evening ended with my charging the audience to bless their children. Age was
unimportant. Children, no matter what their age, long for the parental blessing.
I told them to make the calls and speak life to those “missing” children. I told
them that it was not too late to give the blessing. Little did I know the impact
these words would have on my life on that fateful evening.

I later walked Mom to her car. She leaned into the front seat and produced a fur
cape. Although the cape was beautiful, there was another gift Mom gave me that night
that changed me forever. As she put the cape around my shoulders, Mom pulled me close,
looked into my eyes, held my hands and blessed me. Favorites did not matter. Past
pain, negative whispers, and desperate longing did not matter.

Mom told me that I was beautiful. She told me that she was proud of me. She held
me close and let me know by the power of her hug that she heard my heart’s cry. This
moment showed me that although I was nearly 50 years old, I was still her child and
that only her hug could bring wholeness to me in that moment. My longing and her
love moved her to act and me to receive. Like a hungry bird, I opened the mouth of
my emotions and took it in. She fed me. She held me. She loved me.

This was our moment. I closed my eyes and let my head fall on her shoulder. My tears
wet the front of her coat as she stroked my hair. On that icy, winter night, when
others were running from the cold, we stood embracing, wrapped in the arms of love.
A mother and daughter enveloped in the blessing.

Her words, like honey cut through debris held fast by past pain’s ugly hands. Her
actions, like a sword cut the cords of hopelessness, self hatred, and rejection.
They released a flow of power that still today propels me forward to my destiny.
They freed the hurting child and allowed the woman to stand and be recognized. Thank
you Mom for setting me free. Thank you for the blessing.